Prisoners

Are we not all in prison?
Confined by bars of various sizes and shapes
Are we not all in cages?
With claustrophobic locks of our own make-
Our bars could be flesh that traps us with disease
Or flesh that we have allowed to get insipid and weak
Our bars could be the cruel and judgmental ways
That another is viewing the things we create
Or the cultural bonds of what is right and correct
Or the insatiable worry of what will come next
Our bars could be literal and made of steel lines
That lock up a person for being of a criminal mind
The bars that encompass could be on the corner of the street
The kind that we use to drown our regrets and misdeeds
Or the bars of addictions over which we've lost control
That have crashed and destroyed ambitions and goals
Our bars could be fear that cripples and binds
Fear of humans, of creatures, of intellectual minds
Of the neighbor next door, or perhaps its his pets
Perhaps it is fear of his beliefs or fear he'll want to have sex
The bars that seem to be the most common and insidious kind
Are the ones that restrict the connection to one's inner divine